


(these fishes in the sea) they're staring at me

by goatbutt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi, References to Homophobia, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:56:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goatbutt/pseuds/goatbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry is a mermaid and zayn is a photographer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(these fishes in the sea) they're staring at me

**Author's Note:**

> the title comes from young the giant's [cough syrup](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAsTlnjvetI). all the merman research was stolen from google. the anime is also real.  
> for tamzin, now and always.

the lake just opposite their house is grey and cold and zayn stays away from the water, mostly, because even after all these years of watching louis and liam surf and waiting outside the local pool for niall, he still doesn’t know how to swim.

the sun rises just over the water, changing grey to gold, and zayn is drawn out in the misty mornings to take photos with his favourite hd camera that louis and niall are always poking fun at because he’s named it and a flask of coffee. he wraps himself in what is probably liam’s jumper and picks his way across the field, stopping when he gets to the uneven stones that mark the beginning of the shore.

he sits cross-legged in the grass and sips at his coffee, waiting for the sunrise. there’s a fox screaming somewhere in the distance, and he pulls his camera closer just in case the animal decides to make an appearance by the water. he thinks the hedges of the fields are maybe heaving with wildlife, but his coffee is here, where the sun will be in a couple of minutes.

when the sun rises, it is still misty and the light is a weak yellow. zayn takes some photos and thinks some of them were excellent shots, with the sun playing on the mist as it rises from the water.

when he gets home, niall is up and making himself toast. “morning,” he grumbles and zayn kicks off his shoes under the kitchen table as he passes by.

“hello nialler.” he greets, setting his empty flask by the sink and his camera bag on the worktop. “what is it this morning?”

“history. liam’s got his physiology. do you need us? because we’re heading to the library after.” he groans, and rolls his eyes. “so please need us.”

“sorry niall,” zayn apologizes, heading down the hall into louis’ bedroom. “louis’ll be fine. have a good time at the library!”

he doesn’t bother to take liam’s jumper or his socks off, just kicks off his jeans and slides into bed beside louis. louis startles into semi-awake, but zayn settles him back down, tucking his nose close to louis’ neck.

-

they have the whole house to themselves, and when zayn and louis are left together it’s usually madness. the last time, they let roscoe and dewey the ferrets loose in the kitchen.

this time, zayn moves all their furniture in the living room so he can get the background of their white wall and the spot of sunlight that shines in through their high windows. he’s always craved to take a photo here, in this lighting, with this background, but he’s never had a real opportunity.

the problem being that their furniture is ugly, gift from zayn parents or not, and liam generally objects to huge messes like this. niall doesn’t object, but he worries, quietly, about what liam would do, and when zayn tried to shoot him after moving everything and scraping the wall, he came out vulnerable and panicked. niall’s usually used for the happier shots, so his fans liked seeing a different side, but zayn still aches to know what that light looks like cutting across a grin.

“come on louis!” he calls, listening to the movement in their bedroom. louis opens the door and blinks.

“fuck.” he says, then he grins, unrepentantly wicked. “good work, man.”

-

zayn doesn’t look at the photos he took until later, after they’ve moved the furniture back and when louis offers to transfer their work for the day onto the computer while zayn washes their lunch dishes. louis hasn’t put in his contact lenses yet, even though he prefers them, because zayn wanted him to keep the glasses for the shoot, just to see what they would look like.

“these are pretty good zayn!” louis calls into the kitchen. “i’d still rather my hair up, though.”

he’s quiet for a while after that, looking through photos of himself or maybe making sure they go into the right folder on zayn’s computer. (photos - unedited - lou)

“you all right in there, louis?” zayn asks him, frowning when the sudden lack of noise lasts longer than he expected it would. louis is not usually quiet, and zayn was fairly sure, when he was taking the photos that they would all turn out good, so louis shouldn’t be having another blast of self-doubt.

“yeah, yeah,” louis replies, in a sort of hushed mumble that zayn has to strain to catch. then, just as quietly, “no; actually. zayn, love, can you come here for a sec?”

zayn does, and finds louis bent into the laptop screen, almost brushing it with his nose. he’s squinting, even with his glasses on, but he moves when zayn comes to a stop beside him, looking puzzled. zayn’s photos from the morning are on the screen, and zayn was right, the pale sun did end up looking good.

“what is it?” he asks, squinting at the screen. the photos aren’t as good as he hoped they would be and the longer he looks at them, the more he notices that could have been better.

“see there-” louis jabs at the screen, and zayn pulls his finger away, looking, “-does that look like a face to you? in the water there?”

zayn pushes louis out of the way and zooms in on the area louis was pointing at. there’s unmistakably a face there, peering out of the water, their nose and mouth under the surface. louis is leaning over zayn’s shoulder, gripping it tight.

“it is, isn’t it?” he asks, excited. “that is a person. in your photo. like, underneath the water.”

zayn exhales, looking at the screen and then out of the window. “yeah,” he says. “fuck. what even? it was freezing.”

“that’s not normal.” louis stresses. “we should go investigate, zayn. bring your camera.”

-

there’s nothing abnormal down at the lake. the sun from earlier has faded back into a typical overcast day, and they pick around the shore in liam’s jumpers, watching a couple of people walk their dogs. zayn gets a couple of photos of a wiry haired terrier splashing around in the water before her owner calls her back and clips her onto a lead, giving zayn funny looks.

“they’re shielding their dogs from you, now.” louis remarks scornfully, watching the woman hurry away. “complete pricks. what’s it about, anyway?”

“maybe they think it’s catching,” zayn shrugs, looking out over the water.

louis loops his arms around him, smushing his face into zayn’s back. “don’t listen to them. forget about that fussy old hag that wrote that.”

zayn shakes louis off, and shrugs again. he’s not really bothered. the burning of the letter was mostly symbolic. “who do you reckon that was, in the water?”

“not sure. maybe we’ll get liam to assess them. whoever’s skulking around in that minging lake isn’t sound, you know? bit mental.”

zayn hums his agreement. “wonder how i missed them,” he muses, already turning back to the house. louis doesn’t answer and they don’t manage to get back before it starts to rain. zayn stuffs his camera into it’s bag and then holds one hand over his hair, protectively, while he holds louis’ hand with his other as they rush through the shower.

louis’ glasses steam up when they finally get inside, and he shakes his hair dry, like a dog. niall’s in the kitchen, making tea, and liam strolls out of his bedroom.

“how was uni?” louis asks them, slipping out of his toms and going to badger niall for a cuppa.

“how was the library?” zayn adds, smirking at niall’s groan of annoyance.

“we could have been done hours ago!” niall exclaims, batting louis away from the kettle. “we could have been here, eating dinner or sleeping. or doing work, since we have three computers and an internet connection.”

“yeah but i don’t have the discipline to work at home,” liam frowns. “and neither do you.”

they settle into their routine and zayn edits photos and replies to a few emails and liam and niall “unwind” from uni by eating ice-cream and gossiping about their lecturers and louis sticks in some french film he doesn’t need subtitles for, the twat.

-

that night, they hear singing drifting up from the lake. it’s low and mournful, beautiful. they all listen to it, huddled into each other on niall’s bed with cups of hot chocolate and hobnobs.

-

zayn sees the person, first hand, the next morning. louis’ trekked down with him and he’s glaring out at the water from where he’s sat on a blanket, stealing sips of coffee from zayn’s thermos and drinking tea from his own. the sunrise has already happened, and the morning is colder than any so far.

there’s a pair of green eyes, just above the level of the water. zayn freezes when he notices them, takes in the dark eyelashes and the soaking wet hair and wonders.

“louis!” he hisses, and louis looks over in the direction of zayn’s gaze.

“oh, wow.” he breathes, watching as the boy brings his whole face out of the water so they can see his nose and his pink lips. “he’s really beautiful, isn’t he?” louis breathes, standing up and walking towards zayn.

louis must step a little too close, or maybe their voices get too loud as they talk about this boy, this strange creature watching them from the murky water, but he’s gone in an instant, leaving behind a ripple and a flash of silver.

“fuck!” zayn mutters, looking at louis, who’s frowning. “shit. did we just see a mermaid or something?”

when they get home, zayn packs the car with cameras, a couple of different outfits and a picnic. “niall and i are going for a shoot,” he explains to louis. “i’d cancel, but it’s a picnic and all that.” louis understands. what zayn really means is, it’s their version of a date, and if he can get a couple of photos of niall that are even halfway decent, it’ll be more than he’s expecting.

“i’m going to hit google,” louis tells him, kissing him goodbye. “tell niall about it, yeah?”

“tell niall about what?” niall asks, shrugging on a jacket. “you ready, zayn?”

“yeah. i’ll tell you later. come on, picnic’s in the car.”

niall grins and slaps louis on the ass when he passes, as a goodbye. louis feins kicking at niall but stops just short of his ankle and blows a kiss instead.

-

louis manages to convince liam easier than he thought he would. he tells the story and shows the photos and then, breaking it down piece by piece to answer liam’s questions, tells the story over again.

liam does a lot of research, almost scarily quickly. he finds out that in the british isles, mermaids have always been seen as unlucky. they have also been described as swimming up rivers and into lakes in the british isles and that some of them were apparently two thousand feet in size.

“merman are generally wilder and uglier than mermaids,” he reads to louis, who shakes his head.

“it was definitely a boy.” he says, and then adds, quickly: “and not ugly.”

liam frowns. “it says that they’re also less interested in humans, though.”

they find out that the singing they’ve been hearing every night is probably him, that he’s maybe gotten lost from his school or his pod or his family. whatever the correct term for a group of mermaids is. they think about how sad his song songs and decide it’s probably right.

“what if he’s stuck here?” louis asks liam. “what if he can’t get home?”

liam looks worried, and shrugs. “if he got here, he can get back, lou.” he reasons. “probably.”

they find an anime of han christian andersen's the little mermaid on youtube and leave it to load while they feed themselves and let the ferrets out. they watch it while they’re eating noodles and listening to the ferrets playing on the floor below them.

once it’s done, liam closes the laptop down and puts it away. “that’s actually. that’s really sad,” he says. “way worse than the disney version.”

-

they don’t see any sight of him for days. eventually, niall gets tired of waking up early to look out into a grey sky and grey water and liam gives some excuse about his lectures, so that he can not come anymore but avoid hurting zayn and louis’ feelings.

after a month of weak winter sunrises and when the frost really starts to set in, louis gives up.

zayn wakes to snow one morning, and he slips out of bed, murmuring for liam to go back to sleep, pulls on two of liam’s jumpers, grabs a beanie he thinks might have originally belonged to louis, makes himself coffee hotter than he really likes it, grabs a camera and leaves for the lake. the air hurts a little bit to breathe, and the snow is the awful, english kind, that only barely lies and isn’t fluffy and white and nice like the american kind.

when he gets to the lake, his camera swinging around his neck, there’s a boy lying on the shore, naked, his feet almost fully submerged in the water. he doesn’t stir when zayn shakes him and zayn knows who this boy is, knows what he was.

his lips are blue around the edges, and zayn heaves him up, manages to get one of the jumpers he’s wearing pulled onto the boy. he’s awake, zayn can sense the dull eyes watching him, but the boy’s arms are limp. his breathing is shallow and zayn leaves his flask behind on the shore and lifts the boy, staggers under his weight and yet manages to make it home.

niall opens the door for him. “skipping my lecture.” he says, immediately, and helps zayn balance the boy’s weight until they get him tucked into zayn’s bed. they pile hot water bottles under the duvet, making sure none of them are actually touching his feet and watch him sleep.

liam worries about whether they should take him to a doctor or not. he could get pneumonia, he points out, but the rest ignore him, based on how the boy smiles when he’s asleep.

-

zayn longs to take photos of him, to capture how sometimes he sleeps curled in on himself, his spine sticking out and how sometimes he sprawls, taking up the whole bed. zayn’s been sharing liam and niall and louis’ beds since he brought the boy to his own, and that’s not weird for them, but it is weird that zayn has no other choice. he likes to be up early and then, when he’s taken his morning photos (which are getting steadily better) he slides back into bed.

then, when he’s slept for maybe three more hours, he’ll get up and shoot louis or liam or niall and edit photos and answer emails from advertisers and hope that one of them is a shoot booking and then he’ll update his blog and louis will swan about the house with nothing to do, singing in french to the ferrets and mentioning “zayn” a lot, just because he knows zayn doesn’t understand.

it’s been three days and the boy has not woken up yet. at the beginning, they took turns watching over him, but now it’s moved onto staying in the house and leaving all the doors open so they’ll be able to hear him if he does wake.

“guys!” niall calls, one evening after he’d gone in to check. “he’s awake!” they all rush into the room and pile around the bed. the boy is sitting up and blinking at them, smiling. a curl has fallen over his face and zayn smoothes it back.

“hi,” he smiles, drawing his hand back. the boy grins, leaning into his touch.

“what’s your name?” liam asks.

the boy shakes his head, still smiling.

“you can’t speak?” he shakes his head again. “well, what are we supposed to call you?”

“harry.” louis decides, out of the blue. “he’ll be our harry.”

-

they learn, very quickly, that harry can’t walk. they help him to the bathroom when he needs it, and try and teach him by taking slow, obvious steps and having him watch, but when he tries, he collapses on the floor with a whine.

“he probably doesn’t have the muscle strength,” liam tells them, helping him back into the bed. “you’re okay, harry.” he soothes. harry whines again in response, sounding high pitched and pained and very unhappy.

“it’s okay,” zayn tells him. “it might get better. maybe this is a first time thing.” harry whines, quieter. “we won’t try again right away, okay?” harry nods, grabbing for zayn’s hands. zayn sits on the bed and lets harry hold his hands for comfort. louis plays with harry’s curls and niall lies beside him, smiling when harry looks over.

harry is very curious. he likes to know what everything is called and he likes to be included in everything. they’ve moved all their meal times into zayn’s old bedroom, so that harry can eat with them and at least two of them sit in with him. zayn sometimes spends hours working while harry watches, pointing to the screen and frowning when he doesn’t understand.

he doesn’t understand a lot. he can’t read, or write, and he can only understand them if they speak slowly and use shorter words. they’re teaching him english, slowly, but he still can’t speak. he steals their clothes just as much as they steal each other’s.

they let him play with roscoe and dewey when they can’t be in the room, but if they leave him for too long he gets upset. they don’t mind rearranging how they do things to make sure they leave enough time for harry.

-

eventually, harry decides he wants to walk. liam and zayn lift him out of bed and support him on either side, their hands overlapping on his back. harry whimpers and almost buckles at every couple of steps, but they finally manage to get him into a chair in the living room.

he curls up there, underneath one of niall’s grandmother’s patchwork blankets, and watches them with his huge green eyes. louis chats to him and the ferrets patter over to curl up and sleep tucked in between harry’s body and the side of the chair before long.

zayn takes a couple of photos of them before they notice. when they do, louis poses and zayn takes another, laughing. harry just stares, watching the camera with the vague mistrust they’ve come to recognise when he sees something new. it’s things like that, things like having to explain toilets and what different foods are called and cameras that remind them what harry is.

“‘s a camera,” zayn explains, passing it over to louis. “careful, lou.”

“i know,” louis snaps, showing it to harry and shaking his head when harry gestures holding it. harry is very clumsy, and they’ve learned to keep important things away from him after he dropped niall’s phone for the third time and it smashed. harry pouts, but looks to zayn for more explanation.

“it takes photos,” he continues, pointing at the wall behind the tv, where all his favourite candids of the boys are pinned up. “like those. photos.”

dewey stretches and yawns, and harry yawns with her. louis takes a photo and then smiles at the screen when he looks at it, showing it to harry. “see?” he says. harry nods, smiling down at the ferret.

louis hands the camera back to zayn and the photo was taken maybe half a second too late and you can see louis’ feet pressed up against harry’s side, but it’s still good. it’s still them. he’ll print it out and add to the candid wall later, he thinks.

liam asks what they want from the pizza place and they end up ordering too much as always, even if harry and niall both eat quite a bit and there’s not really much stopping zayn when it comes to pizza. they start to doze off in the living room, so they say their goodnights, liam and louis disappear together, niall closes his own bedroom door after him and zayn helps harry into bed before sliding in after him.

-

christmas is exciting and they decorate maybe more than they’d like to admit. they have two fake trees, covered in christmas lights, and zayn insists on decorating bare branches he found in the field with white lights and putting them in a huge, metal pitcher.

they always get shot in a group by the tree, the lights shining off their faces and lighting their hair from the back. liam and louis steady harry between them, and niall reaches over louis’ shoulder to tug at harry’s ear for the photo. zayn frowns, but takes a couple and relaxes, smiling.

“you all look so good,” he tells them, gesturing to the ridiculous christmas jumpers that they wear every year. he sounds proud of them, glad that they look good and glad that they’re with him, and he backs into the frame, holding the camera high and snapping a couple of pictures of them all together, happy.

“happy christmas!” niall shouts, tugging on harry’s ear again. harry wobbles and liam and louis juggle him for a second, threatening to topple on top of him. eventually, they get him steadied and niall smiles, sheepishly. “sorry harry,” he mumbles, and then, to louis and liam, “sorry lads.”

they have christmas dinner together in the living room, with the lights turned off and the tree painting them with small rainbows, refracting through their wine glasses filled with shloer. they’ve got on their paper crowns, and harry had startled after the first cracker was pulled, but he soon turned inquisitive and shared his own with liam.

“what happens when you play table tennis with an egg?” louis asks, pushing the crown back on his head when it threatens to slip off. he waits maybe three seconds, and then rushes onto the punchline. “first it goes ping, then it goes pong!” he frowns, turning the card over in his hand. “that’s awful.”

niall laughs anyway; giddy, and the ferrets look up from their own christmas dinner before burying themselves back into the bowls. zayn looks at harry, with a yellow paper crown on and the fairy lights turning him blue, green, red and he thinks, quite simply, that he has fallen in love with this creature; this mermaid in human form.

-

he reclaims his bed and lies beside harry almost every night. he begins to kiss him hello and goodbye, good morning and good night, just like he does with the others. they all accept harry as easily as louis and zayn had accepted liam and niall the year before, when they asked, over homemade cheesecake from doncaster and yorkshire tea from down the road, about extra money and modelling opportunities. they all press kisses to harry’s skin, the movement and thoughts already second nature to them. once one of them falls in love, they all follow.

harry smiles under this newer, changed, attention. he kisses them back, hand in their hair and holding tight, like he wants to keep them with him forever. he still can’t speak and zayn misses the sound of his song against the night, low and mournful.

“did you used to sing?” he asks harry one night, tucked up against him in bed. harry nods, looking at him with surprise. zayn huffs a laugh. “we heard you. we thought you sounded sad.” harry nods again, blinking slowly and watching zayn with careful measure in his eyes.

“the internet said you might’ve got lost? from your family. you missed them. you wanted them.”

harry jabs at zayn’s chest. he’s wearing gloves, even in bed, because he’s started to feel the cold with a vengeance, shivering under his blankets and refusing to leave his warm bed on the colder days.

they haven’t had any more snow. zayn is torn between happy or disappointed - he hasn’t done a snow shoot in years, not since he and louis were seventeen and louis was fresh home from paris, his tan shocking against the snow - but on the other hand, snow makes everything awful and dangerous.

“me?” zayn asks harry, looking at him in muted shock. “you wanted me?” harry nods, and then looks at the bedroom door. “us, then.” zayn corrects, his voice breathless. he feels in awe, maybe. there’s no real word for it, the realisation of just how much someone loves you - if they even do at all. “you wanted us.”

-

zayn posts a photo of liam and niall kissing while they’re feeding the ferrets to tumblr. it’s not perfect photography, but the souls of the two boys are amazingly strong in it; their love for one another almost seeping out. he logs out before he can get the flood of “are they in a relationship?” questions that always follows a photo like this, no matter how many times he tells people that yes, they are in a relationship. yes, he is involved. yes, so is louis.

there is an actual eff-yeah account dedicated to his candid photos, the ones that show the boys just being themselves with one another. louis loves it, loves scrolling through it and smiling at the memories, loves pointing to the screen and saying “that’s all you zayn, babe. told you that you could do it.”

back in the late summer, when he sold a one-time-only print of louis and liam sitting together under a sky filled with paper lanterns they’d let off for liam’s birthday for quite a lot of money, the local paper had actually reported on him. they hadn’t interviewed him, just going straight to his various online portfolios and ended up writing a very praising piece.

he’s got the article cut out and stored away in a scrapbook filled with pictures of his family and of himself, as a child. he’d cut out the “letter to the editor” section of the next week’s paper, as well, the one which complained about their sinful way of life and burnt it in the fireplace.

-

photos - harry is almost as full as his other candid folders for the other boys by january. zayn doesn’t use the photos he takes of harry anywhere - he doesn’t even post them to tumblr - and he doesn’t edit them.

he prints out seven of his favourites and pins them all on the wall, spacing them out so the moments he’s captured are squeezed in between ancient memories of liam walking along a beach, half-heartedly kicking a wave, his surfboard left on the sand somewhere behind him and louis and niall baking and covered in flour.

harry still can’t walk without help and it’s still painful for him. he hasn’t put on any weight, and his spine still protrudes against the skin of his back, but he hasn’t lost any either, and he is happy and healthy and loved.

in early january, niall decides he’s dropping out of uni. it’s a lot of stressed phone calls home and tears, and a lot of one-sided fights between him and liam. zayn and louis just watch, because they know they have no place in this fight. zayn is a dropout himself, barely managing two months, and louis never even entertained the thought. harry watches in silence too, whimpering when niall shouts and liam shouts back, louder and disappointed.

they fall apart, for a bit. eventually, niall’s mum tells him it’s uni or mullingar and they can almost see his shiver at being trapped there for the rest of his life.

“isn’t that a bit...harsh?” louis asks niall. he’s been allowed to choose between england or france for most of his life.

niall rubs at his face. “not really, no.” he looks out the window, at the january sky. liam’s at a lecture and zayn’s got a shoot booked, with the couple that live by the llama field and eloped from portugal. they’re both painters and everyone is certain zayn will come back laden with old canvases and paints. “that was the deal in the first place. i could go to england if i really meant it.”

they’ve left harry with the ferrets. he’s refusing to get out of bed, his legs sore to even move, locking at the joints. they’re all silently worried and know that niall made this choice out of desperate need to stay close to harry for as long as he can.

“liam loves him too niall,” louis gently tells him, flicking the kettle on. “but he’s not throwing away his whole life for him, you know?”

-

it starts to snow on the last day of january, and by the morning, it’s covering the ground and still coming down. harry curls up in bed and whimpers pitifully, and they all know what’s coming. zayn cancels a skype meeting and liam and niall forget about lectures and they all squeeze into zayn’s bed, careful not to move harry’s legs.

he sleeps a lot. they talk in whispers, wondering if they’ve overreacted. he seems fine, sleeping peacefully, louis points out, the hope in his voice overpowering and painful to resist. they clamber out of the bed and leave harry sleeping, pad quietly into the kitchen to make tea and eat a lot of unhealthy stuff liam doesn’t even reject.

the snow is quiet outside and it seems to muffle everything. niall wanders off to feed roscoe and dewey and they chitter loudly when they see him, angry and upset at something he can’t quite figure out.

zayn takes a cup of tea and a piece of shortbread into harry once he’s finished his own. harry’s awake, lying on his side and panting. zayn sets the biscuit and tea by his glasses on the bedside table and places his hand on harry’s side. he can feel the shallow breathes and how harry’s ribs rise and fall with each one, in rapid succession.

harry turns to look at him, whimpering brokenly in pain. his eyes are huge, shining with pain and tears. zayn presses a kiss to his lips and runs his hand through his hair, shushing him with crooning mumbles.

“you’re going to be okay,” he tells harry, kissing him again. harry whines when zayn pulls back, looking at him with fear.

“everything’s going to be okay,” he lies, then calls for the boys. dusk is pink and purple outside and the leafless trees are silhouetted against it, reaching out with branches like broken bones.

-

harry gets increasingly restless, tossing and turning with high pitched whimpers of pain. niall is brushing back his hair and louis is holding harry’s hand, ignoring how tightly harry is squeezing his. zayn and liam are standing at the foot of the bed, talking in hushed whispers and snapping at each other.

“boys.” niall says, brushing harry’s hair back from his ears so that they can all see the red, inflamed lines raised out from his skin. “we’ve got to get him down to the water.”

harry’s back arches and a strangled whimper rips out of him. louis pulls him into a hug, resting his chin on harry’s shoulder, and runs his fingers along the rough patches of skin at the small of harry’s back, through the thin t-shirt he’d stolen from zayn. harry snuffles sadly, whining at the back of his throat.

“i don’t suppose the bath would do?” zayn asks, hysterically.

“it wouldn’t be fair,” liam frowns. “harry maybe wouldn’t consciously mind at first, but he’d be miserable soon enough.”

niall lifts the quilt and lets it drop immediately, turning from them and gagging. “his legs are.” he splutters out, vaguely gesturing to the air above the bed. he looks up at them again, his face pale. “...growing together?” he manages, shakily, and then dry heaves. “fuck me. poor harry. jesus.”

harry whines again, gripping louis’ hand tighter. louis looks out the window, at the winter night. “we’ll carry him down to the lake and sit with him there,” he decides, gripping harry’s hand back. “nobody will be out.”

“his boxers,” liam mumbles, looking suddenly pale. “they’ll be caught in between...” he grimaces. “in his tail.”

zayn claps him on the back. “me and you,” he says, trying to sound confident. “we’ll sort him out. come on liam.”

they pull back the duvet. the bottom of harry’s legs are knitting together, the flesh growing over them like a scab, dull scales shining silver when they catch the light. the parts that haven’t joined are raw and weeping and bleeding on the insides. liam bites back a sob and looks at zayn, worried. “we can cut them off,” he offers.

harry’s panting even more now and louis’ hand flutters under his ear. “guys,” he starts, in a warning voice. “you’d better hurry up.” harry whines and louis strokes his cheek. “‘s okay, hazza.” he says, softly. “you’re okay.”

they get his boxers cut off, hacking at them until they can pull the pieces apart. harry tries to squirm away from zayn when he tries to pull the pieces from where they’ve stuck to the puss and blood. “sorry sorry sorry,” zayn chants when harry whimpers and starts to cry, still trying to get away from him.

“it’s okay, you’re okay, let zayn do it babe,” louis’ saying into harry’s ear, trying to calm him down. when zayn manages to rip the material away harry sobs and lets out a long, keening whine. they bundle him up in the quilt and zayn carries him out of the house.

-

the new moon is reflecting off the water, ominous and bright. they all stumble down the field toward the lake, each of them sobbing, harry clinging to zayn and crying into his shoulder - huge, rattling sobs that send shudders through his whole body.

they sit in a huddle by the water, freezing and shaking. harry’s still wrapped in the duvet, and they’re all fussing over him, petting him and telling him how much they love him. he looks up at them, his eyes wild with pain and heartbreak.

his bones break and the crack is like a gunshot in the night. they flinch, and harry lets out a broken, hoarse, scream, trying to roll out of zayn’s grip. zayn steadies him, and holds him closer. liam starts to sing something, sorrowful and low. niall joins in, then zayn and louis. harry stills, panting and whining under his breath.

the snow keeps falling around them, landing on harry’s cheeks and in his hair. they’re numb, now, with the freezing temperature, and niall’s nose and cheeks have gone pink with the harsh air.

eventually, they have to let go of him, and surrender him to the water. there’s a ragged edge to his breathing that they can’t ignore and, when they slip him out of the duvet, they can see his tail is fully grown, powerful and gleaming in the moonlight.

niall eases the t-shirt off him, and they all help him into the lake, watching him disappear under the surface of the water. liam sinks to his knees and sobs, totally defeated. niall sniffs, quietly and louis stares out stonily at the lake.

“harry!” zayn calls, feeling abandoned and like harry has taken a fifth of zayn with him, like harry’s stolen a piece of his soul.

harry surfaces and swims right up to the shore, lying out on the stones. “zayn,” he sighs, reaching out with a soaking hand to touch zayn’s ankle. his voice is deep and hoarse, after almost three months of no use.

“harry!” niall says, kneeling down beside him. “you talked!” he presses a kiss to harry’s lips.

“i traded my voice for legs,” harry smiles. “for you guys.” he reaches out for the rest of them. “i love you. all of you.”

they echo it back to him, each of them proclaiming their love. he smiles, and with the moonlight shining down on him like a halo and the snow falling around him, they could maybe mistake him for an angel.

“i have to go,” he says, apologetically, sliding back into the water. “i’ll be back in a bit.”

-

they pack as much into the following days as they can. none of them want to sit around and do nothing, be reminded of their sudden lack of harry. when louis lets the ferrets out, they run around the house looking for harry, sneezing when they squeeze under the bedside cabinet.

zayn takes a picture of louis, tucked up against the wall with his knees under his chin and his eyes closed. it is the epitome of heartbreak and zayn envies louis, not for the first time, for being able to embody emotions completely. it’s what makes him such a good model, and zayn’s respect for it is what makes him such a good photographer.

then, four days without him, they hear singing at midnight. it doesn’t sound as close to their house as they’re used to, but they know what it means. they know who is singing for them and why. louis pulls liam into zayn’s bedroom, where niall and zayn are sitting up and listening with tears in their eyes, and they all pile into zayn’s bed, curled around one another.

“i love you.” they breathe to each other and the song before they fall asleep. their dreams are bittersweet and they know that life without harry is like an aftershock to watching him swim away from them.

-

harry, when he sees them walking toward the lake at dawn, bundled in jumpers and beanies, swims up to the shallows and bursts through the water with a bright smile. “missed you,” he calls out, watching them get closer, and then, when they get close enough that the water is lapping at their toes. “kiss me.”

they take turns pressing a kiss to his lips. louis kisses the rest of them as well, slinging his arm around niall’s shoulder. once liam has backed away from harry and zayn kisses him, harry pulls away. “thank you,” he chants. “thank you, thank you.”

there’s a flash of light, silver like the stars and the moon, from underneath the water. the grey skies open and offer them more snow, as harry steps out of the water, pulling them all into a hug and burying his face in niall’s hair.

“you love me,” he sobs, happily. “i told them you would. i watched you take photos and i watched you all walk along the shore and i loved you. they gave me this gift because you loved me back."


End file.
